


Endeavour: Dancer

by Parakeetist



Category: Endeavour (TV), Inspector Morse & Related Fandoms, Inspector Morse (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Avebury - Freeform, Cabin, F/M, Family, Holiday, Leukemia, Major Illness, Police, Snow, Stone Circle, Stonehenge - Freeform, menhir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:06:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21875626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parakeetist/pseuds/Parakeetist
Summary: Miss Joan Thursday takes a holiday... and winds up trying to hide some bad news about herself.
Relationships: Endeavour Morse/Joan Thursday
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Endeavour: Dancer

Endeavour: Dancer  
by Parakeetist

Set in the mysterious land between series six and seven. 

Joan Thursday walked into the bus station. She put down her blue suitcase and approached the desk.  
“Hello, I’d like a round trip to Avebury, please.” She pushed forward some money. The clerk took it and began to process the order.  
It was February, still cold. Joan rubbed her arms. “How long does the trip usually take?”  
“Two hours,” the man said. He put a sheet of paper into a machine, and received a printed rectangle of paper in return. “This is your departure time, this is your return.”  
Joan checked his name tag. It read Charles Simmons. “Thank you, Mr. Simmons.”  
“Yes. You’ve got about forty minutes before you’re scheduled to leave.”  
“I’ll sit down.” Joan picked up her bag and sat in a chair in a long row. She stretched out her feet.  
She tried not to think about the printout from her doctor. It sat in a folder in her bag.  
Thinking about the news could wait. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot to the tune on the radio.

...

At the police station, Detective Sergeant Endeavour Morse lifted his hands. “But I’ve never taken time off before.”  
Superintendent Bright did not budge. “You have to. It’s vital for your health. I am ordering you to take off the next two weeks.”  
“Where do you suggest I go?”  
“I’ll get you a book.” Bright began to look through the bookcase behind him.  
Endeavour pulled at his tie. “Can I cash out any of the time, sir?”  
“I believe so, but you are the only officer under my command I’ve ever met who actively dislikes holidays. Tell me, why is that?”  
“Don’t know.” He smiled briefly. “Car’s in the shop. I’ll have to take the bus or the train.”  
Bright found what he was looking for, and passed the volume to Endeavour.  
“Thank you.”  
“Dismissed.”  
“Yes, sir.” Morse left the office. He looked at the cover. “Travel in your car. Reach exciting destinations.”  
Morse almost bumped into Jim Strange. “Watch where you’re going, eh? What are you reading?”  
“See for yourself.” Endeavour held out the cover.  
“Holidays? Since when do you go on them?”  
“Since the Superintendent told me I had run up too many days.”  
“Oh. Where are you going?”  
“Could be anywhere.”  
“Try the States. I hear New York is a hoot.”  
“Maybe someday.”  
“I forgot, you don’t like to enjoy yourself. See you later.” He tapped Morse in the chest, and continued down the hall.  
Startled, Morse continued back to his desk. He sat down and flipped through the book.  
Minutes later, he got an idea, and picked up the phone. “Hello, bus company? Do you have any tickets for, say, under five or ten pounds?”  
“I should. Let me check.” The clerk flipped through a book. “If you get here within the hour, you can take a couple different buses to London. Then there’s Nottingham, Avebury-”  
“With the standing stone circle.”  
“Right. London is less than an hour, Nottingham’s about three and a half hours, and Avebury, I think, is two. Did you want to hear anything else?”  
“No, thank you. I’ll be there.”  
“Bye now.” The other man hung up.  
Morse pulled at his tie and put on his jacket. It was close enough to leave time. He went to the card machine and punched out.  
Endeavour took the bus. The driver had the radio on. The station played a Wagner piece, then switched to a news update.  
“Forecast has changed, to heavy snow for tonight. Bundle up.”  
Morse stopped at home and gathered clothes, plus a few sundries. He packed the suitcase and got back on the bus.  
He reached the station for the long-distance bus line.  
A man pushed past him on his way up the steps. The door was open for a few seconds. Morse caught the side of it, and stepped in.  
He thought he heard a familiar voice, singing along with the Beatles’ tune on the radio. He looked around, but could find no one. Oh well. He approached the desk.  
“Hello, ticket to Avebury, please?”  
“Round trip?” the clerk said.  
“Yes. I'm sure they have guided tours at the monument."  
  
“Of course. Don’t worry.” The man typed something on his monitor and took hold of the ticket as it printed.  
Endeavour paid and took a seat in the lounge. He heard the voice again. This time, it was humming a jingle.  
“Could you stop that?” he said, looking around.  
The woman put down her newspaper. “I was just enjoying-”  
She stopped. So did he.  
“Miss Thursday,” he said.  
“Mr. Morse. Imagine meeting you here.”  
“Where are you off to?”  
“Avebury. I’ve a yearning to get a look at some history.”  
“What a coincidence.”  
“Don’t tell me you’re off to the same place? You never take days off.”  
“I do if the Superintendent orders me to. Which, today, he did.”  
“Oh. Well, the bus should be leaving soon.”  
“Right.”  
“You don’t have to sit near me.”  
“Wasn’t going to do that.”  
“Oh.” She looked awkward. “Well, then.”  
Minutes later, the clerk picked up the intercom fob. “The trip to Avebury begins in ten minutes. Anyone with tickets, please head out front.”  
Morse and Thursday went to stand in the queue. The driver checked their tickets and put their bags in the storage area.  
He nodded at Joan. “Always nice to see young couples heading off.” He smiled.  
Morse looked at the man, puzzled. Joan stepped on the bus.

The other passengers rushed to find seats. Morse hurried down the aisle. He grabbed the arm of a seat and swung himself into it.  
Looking out the window next to him was one Joan Thursday. Endeavour rolled his eyes and fiddled with his tie.  
“Oh, it’s you,” she said, when she saw him. “Figures.”  
“Indeed.”  
“When the lady comes, I’m going to ask her for a newspaper.”  
“Suit yourself.”  
When everyone was settled, the trip began. The bus rumbled slowly into motion.  
The server came down the lane. She offered everyone soda pop and snacks.  
“Bag of pretzels, a diet citrus soda, and an Oxford Mail, if you please,” Joan said. She passed the woman money for the items.  
Endeavour wiggled his shoulders into the cushion. The server looked at him.  
“Anything for you, sir?” She waited. Morse’s eyes were closed. “Whiskey, crisps, something?”  
Endeavour mumbled something. He did not open his eyes. Joan translated. “A cherry soda and a pack of barbecue crisps, if you would.” She handed across the money. The woman gave Joan the items, and carried on down the aisle.  
Joan unfolded the little table from the seat in front, and placed the items on it. “Get your rest.”  
“Thank you.” His nose tilted up, and he began to snore. It reminded Joan of a tuba.  
An hour later, the bus paused at a petrol station. While the driver went to arrange payment, Morse woke up.  
“Hurruh huh!” he snorted. “What’s going on?”  
“We’ve got another hour to go. Driver’s just filling up on petrol.”  
“Oh. Thank you.” He saw the snacks, which were still unopened, on his table. “Looks good.” He popped the tab of the soda can.  
The bus got underway again. “Did you bring a book?” he asked Joan.  
“Yes, a few,” she said, and rummaged in the folder in the chair in front of her. She handed him “And Then There Were None,” by Agatha Christie.  
“Thank you. I think I read this years ago, but I don’t remember the solution.”  
“Enjoy.”  
He flipped back the cover. Then he blinked. “You know, I didn’t book a hotel. Did you?”  
“Yes. The Haven. Don’t know if they still have any rooms open.”  
“I’ll check as soon as we get in.”  
“Okay, then. There should be a few more places close by.”  
“Hmm-hmm.”  
The bus moved on. Eventually, the driver pulled off the motorway. He came to a side street and signaled as he went into the parking lot of a tourist center. He pressed the brake, and pulled the doors open.  
Endeavour and Joan got their baggage and walked onto the pavement. They took seats on a bench.  
“I’ll get to a phone,” he said, and walked to a booth.  
Joan stretched her legs. She watched people go by.  
Minutes later, Endeavour came back. “The hotels near us were all filled. The Haven had a spare cabin.”  
“Oh?” Her lips curled up in a smile.  
“Yes, mine’s two doors over from yours.”  
“How did you find that out?”  
“I told them a friend had recommended the place. They asked for your name.”  
“Sly devil.”  
He blushed. “I called a cab. Should be here any minute.”  
“Thanks.”  
The taxi pulled up. They put their bags in the trunk.  
Minutes later, they pulled up to the little car park in front of the hotel office. There was a building with standard rooms, and there were free-standing cabins strewn up and down the paths. They put down their bags and walked up to the front desk.  
“Morse here,” he said to the clerk. “I called before, about getting a room?”  
“Ah, yes. Cabin G. It’s this much, please.” The man pointed to a number on the bill.  
Morse paid. The clerk handed him the key. “There’s a fireplace in every cabin. There’s also breakfast, in the main building, starting at six a.m,” the clerk said.  
“Thank you.” He turned to face Joan. “Your turn.”  
She went through the process, and took the key. “Hot water, I assume?”  
“Indeed, ma’am. You should be fine. If anything is out of order, let us know.”  
“Thanks. Bye now.”  
Endeavour stepped outside and flagged down a golf cart. He put all their bags on the back of the machine. “Cabin E first, please.” The passengers took their seats, and the driver sped off.

…

The cart driver stopped in front of Joan’s cabin. She got out and took her bags, and left a tip for the man.  
“I’ll see you later,” she said to Endeavour.  
“See you,” he said. The cart raced off again.  
Joan opened the door and put down her things. There was indeed a fireplace, which she thought she would light later on. She busied herself putting away the clothes, books, and other belongings.  
When she was done, she dusted off her hands on her dress and took a look at everything. It would do for the weekend.  
Joan kicked off her shoes and pulled off her nylons. She changed into a nightgown, and got under the covers. The little wooden home was wonderfully warm, despite that she hadn’t yet lit the fire. She closed her eyes.

…

A couple of hours later, she woke up.  
Joan blinked. She went to rummage in one of her suitcases, in search of a book.  
Instead, she ran across the medical papers. The blood test results, with close-up shots of cells, and the doctor’s signature at the bottom of each page. She cringed.  
Joan started to cry, and put the pages back in the folder. She should never have brought them along on this trip. Holidays were for relaxation and enjoyment. Now she wouldn’t be in a good mood, if Endeavour wanted to do anything together.  
She decided just to concentrate on other things. There was a small radio on the night table. She switched it on, and found a pop station.  
Joan went back to her suitcase and found her camera. She loaded it with film. When she took the tour of the standing stones, there would be plenty of good shots to take.  
She opened the blinds. A little snow was falling. That would look beautiful in the morning.  
Joan used the washroom. As she was coming out, there was a knock on her door.  
It was Endeavour. He was in a state.  
“The flue blew up! It exploded!”  
“What? Are you saying the chimney wouldn’t work, or something?”  
“Yes. It was blocked. I tried to undo it. A load of soot fell on me. I put in some firewood and lit it anyway. Damn thing exploded. I took the fire extinguisher and put it out. Then I jumped in the shower.”  
“That’s why you’re damp.”  
“Yes. May I come in?”  
“Sure, sure.” She pulled the door all the way open.  
He stepped in. “I called the front office. They’re sending over a repairman. I told them I’d come here.”  
“Okay. Does this change your plans to visit the henge site?”  
“Oh, ah, no, it doesn’t. I’ll call the office and see if there’s a trip later.”  
“Let me call.” She picked up the phone.  
Endeavour walked outside. He saw the work lorry pull up to his cabin. He strolled over.  
Minutes later, Joan put down the phone. She went outside.  
Endeavour was just finishing up his discussion with the worker. Joan went out to meet Morse.  
“How’d it finish?” she said, with a smile.  
“They said the room would be unavailable for tonight. They would refund my money for today.”  
“I see.”  
“By any chance, do you know of any room where I might stay?”  
“Funny that you mention it.”  
He held up his belongings, which were in two bags. “I managed to salvage these.” The items had some soot on them. “If I could store them in your house, for now?”  
“Feel free.”  
They went back inside. He stashed the luggage in the corner. “Now!” he said, pulling at his tie. “Are we ready to take the trip?”  
“Yes. There’s a shuttle bus, which should pull up to the main path in-” She checked her watch. “Ten minutes.”  
“Let’s go wait.”  
“Morse?”  
“Yes?”  
“Do you own any casual clothes at all? A t-shirt, some jeans, trainers, things like that?”  
“No.”  
“That’s what I thought. I’ll have to pick you up something later on. You can’t look like you’re at work all the time.”  
“Eh, this’ll do for today.” He pulled at his shirt. “Shall we go?”  
They walked out to the bench to wait for the shuttle bus.  
Shortly, it arrived. The driver pulled open the door. The two, plus some other sightseers, got on board, and sat down.  
Joan patted her purse. “I brought the camera.”  
“Should have some good opportunities for it.” Morse grinned.  
Joan blushed. Morse seemed to be in a good mood, despite the incident at his cabin. Hopefully, he’d be able to relax and enjoy the day out.

…

“Now, everyone is familiar with Stonehenge, which is further south of here, but our monument at Avebury has important differences,” the tour guide said. He pointed to the megalith. “The circle is much larger. Originally, there were thought to be one hundred stones in it.”  
The tourists stood a good distance from the cluster of rocks. The guide was dressed in a winter coat, trousers, and boots. He wore a wool hat. Many in the tour group looked the same.  
“The site was thought to have religious or astronomy-related purposes,” the man continued.  
Suddenly, he put a hand over his eyes, and squinted. “Oh, Lord, trouble again.” He pulled out his binoculars. “Seems we’ve got some visitors.” He took a walkie-talkie out of his jacket. “Security, the drug users are here again.”  
“Affirmative,” said a voice from the other end. The docent put the fob back in his pocket.  
“Ladies and gentlemen, we do get some pagan visitors from time to time. They are not harmless. They come here to take LSD and hold ceremonies.”  
“You mean rituals?” said a man in the crowd.  
“That’s right. They claim to have the right to use the land, but for groups like that, you have to get a permit. You can’t just steal people’s sheep and kill them in public.”  
“What if they bought the sheep, from a local farm?” Joan wondered aloud, but the tour leader did not hear her. He went on gesturing to the crowd.  
Endeavour removed his warrant card and stepped forward. “I should be able to help,” he said. He showed the man the card.  
“Oh, wasn’t aware, sir.” The man tugged at his hat. “Pat Endicott, at your service.”  
“Mr. Endicott, I’ll go address the walkers-on, if you don’t mind.”  
“Please do that, sir.” He smiled.  
Endeavour began walking down the field. Even though it was not the full mile across the circle, it taxed Morse’s legs.  
As he approached the three hippies, he waved. “Hello. My name is Detective Sergeant Morse, with the Thames Valley Police.”  
“A long way from your usual turf,” said the one in front, whom Morse figured to be about eighteen. The man had a short beard. His hair was brown, and hung to his shoulders.  
“You are right, but my authority doesn’t stop at the Oxfordshire limits.”  
“Is that so?” The man had a blank expression.  
“Did you pay for a ticket to be here?” Morse asked.  
“No, we’ve got annual passes.”  
Morse thought the teen had to be joking, but the lad pulled out his paper card with the National Trust logo, as well as his driver’s license. His friends did so as well. They handed the group of cards to Morse.  
“I see,” Endeavour said. He mulled over the items, and gave them back. “You are Timothy McClellan,” he said to the teen with the beard. “You are Neil Claiborne, and you are Arnold Jarvis.” He nodded his chin at the others. Neil was a blond with short hair, and Arnold was a redhead with thick curls. I’d like to make a phone call.”  
“I need to see a warrant before we go any further.” Tim tapped his sneakers on the ground.  
“Very good, I don’t have one,” Endeavour confessed. “You win. Don’t get high and don’t fight anyone.”  
“Wasn’t going to,” Tim said. “Did you remember the stereotype about graffiti?”  
“All right. You can go.” He waved his hand.  
As the three left, Endeavour turned his to the side, and noticed something. He smiled. 

…

“It’s too bad we don’t have better weather,” Pat said, “but you folks will have to get your photos in by now, if you haven’t already. The last bus will leave within the hour. They’ve decided to cut today’s time that we’re open, so everyone has time to get moving before the roads freeze.”  
Joan pulled her coat a little closer. The sleet had turned to genuine snow, and the wind was getting faster.  
She saw Morse walking up, and grinned. Patrick began to wrap up his speech.  
Joan took out her camera. She shot a number of photos.  
“I think I got some good ones, with the mist coming in,” she said.  
“Should be. Let’s get going.” Morse scratched behind his right ear. Right away, Joan knew he was concealing something. She glanced at him, and noticed there were what appeared to be twigs sticking out of the pocket of his coat. Oh well. Maybe he took some flowers to brighten up his desk at work.  
They walked back to the bus, and sat together.  
The driver dropped them off. They walked up to her door.  
Once inside, Joan put her coat on a hook. She accepted Morse’s as well. Then Joan placed a bag from the gift shop on the table.  
“What did you get?” Endeavour asked.  
“This,” she said, and opened the bag. It was a set of antlers.  
“What are these for?” He lifted them up to his head.  
“Oh, you can make it up.”  
He put them back on the table. Then he went to his coat, and removed something from the pocket.  
“Turn around, now. Go on, shoo.” He waved at her. She spun to face the wall.  
After some minutes, and a good number of “Ouch” sounds, Endeavour spoke again. “Right, it’s ready.”  
Joan opened her eyes. “Morse, you-” She put a hand to the base of her neck. He had made a crown of flowers. “It’s beautiful.”  
“Thank you,” he murmured. She put it on.  
She put on the radio. They were playing jazz.  
“Dance?” he said, and held out his hands.  
There was a knock on the door.  
She looked cross. “Who is it?” she called out, and opened the door.  
It was a repairman from the Haven. “Someone said they saw the gentleman walk in here? Mr. Morse?” He smiled. “When he gets back, tell him his room is ready again. You saucy thing.”  
Endeavour stepped to the door. “What seems to be the trouble?” He took out his warrant card.  
“We don’t knowingly rent to unmarried people,” the man said, with a look on his face as if it should be the plainest thing in the world.  
“And what business of yours would that be, exactly?”  
The man blinked and turned to walk back to his golf cart. “These days, I tell you...”  
Joan shut the door. “Saucy? ‘You saucy thing’?”  
They both burst out laughing. “The hell!” Endeavour said.  
“Ridiculous!”  
Joan ducked into the washroom. When she came out, she set the crown on a table. Morse sat down on the bed.  
He noticed something on the floor. A bunch of papers had fallen out of Joan’s suitcase. He picked them up.  
He tried to quickly jam them back in the bag, but Joan came out, and saw him.  
“Now, mister, what are you up to?”  
“No good,” he said, and smiled.  
“Give,” she said, and reached out her hands. He tried not to look, but curiosity got the better of him. She noticed, and frowned. “Give it!”  
“What’s this?” he said. “It’s from the doctor’s, right?”  
“Yes.”  
“Read it.”  
“It’s private.”  
“Did I see the word-” He ran a finger around the inside of his collar.  
Joan sighed. “Sit down.” She took a chair, he sat on the edge of the bed. She took a deep breath.  
“Before we left, I took a blood test.”  
“Yes?”  
“It’s, ah, it’s-” She scratched her nose.  
“Go on,” he said, after a moment.  
“Well!” She breathed out heavily. “It’s a word that rhymes with dancer.”  
He stared at her, and his jaw dropped. “No. No.”  
She nodded. “Leukemia,” she whispered.  
He shook his head.  
“I had hints. Growing up, my brother Sam and I, we used to run in the backyard. I’d get winded really quickly. I wanted to join the basketball team in college, but I couldn’t hack it at the tryouts. I kept running out of breath.”  
Morse sighed. Joan stood up. Endeavour followed suit.  
He raised his arms. Joan embraced him. Then he stepped back.  
“I’m going back to the cabin.”  
“No,” she said, pulling on his tie. “You are not.”  
She gently pushed him back toward the bed.

…

The next Monday morning, DCI Fred Thursday put his coat on a hook, and looked at the desk. He scanned the row of pictures: Winifred, Joan, and a new one of Sam in his uniform. Fred smiled.  
He stepped into the hallway. He saw Morse walking up.  
“Mr. Thursday, sir.”  
“Morning!” He narrowed his eyebrows. “You look… different, somehow.”  
“Sir.”  
“Yes, lad? What’s going on?” He pulled the knot of his tie.  
“I would like to talk to you.”  
“Sure, come on in.”  
They walked into the office. Thursday turned to face Morse. “Well?”  
“It’s about your daughter.”  
“Oh?”  
Morse cleared his throat. “Two years ago, she was seeing Ray Morton.”  
Thursday glowered. “I remember.”  
“Miss Thursday came to my flat. There was – there was a bruise on her face.”  
“By God-” Fred’s face turned beet red.  
“I didn’t call a car. I should have. I didn’t call.”  
“A patrol car?” Thursday breathed out heavily. “You would have lost the collar, lad, because I’d pummeled him before. Damn.” The DCI picked up the chair and slammed it into the desk.  
“Sir, I asked your daughter – I asked your daughter to marry me.”  
Fred blinked. “What? Ah, what?”  
“She said no.”  
The DCI took a step back. “Morse. Morse. Jesus.” He sighed. “Her mind must have been in a tizzy.”  
“Yes. It’s been two years since then, sir.”  
Fred nodded.  
“A long time, sir.” Endeavour took a deep breath. “I’d like to ask if I could start to see her again.”  
“Well.” Fred smiled. “Go ahead.” He patted Morse on the shoulder.  
“Thank you, sir.” Morse breathed out. He smiled.  
“Now, remember the Delk case?”  
“The shooting?”  
“Yes.”  
“Let’s get to work on it.”

…

Time passed, as it will.  
For two weeks, Endeavour worked extra hours. He was stuck on the Delk case every night, putting in twelve and sometimes sixteen hours. One night, he had to ask Cadet Robert Lewis to drive him home.  
Then, a lucky call came in. They located Anthony Delk, who was wanted in the shooting of his estranged wife. It was determined that Anthony had not fired the gun; however, he had paid someone else to do so. They charged Delk with conspiracy, and his friend, Chet Scarborough, with the murder.  
When Morse finished the report, he went to the break room and got a cup of tea. He drank from it and sighed.  
The station loudspeaker sounded. “Detective Sergeant Morse to the front desk. Repeat, Morse to the front desk.”  
Endeavour walked down. Standing by the desk was Cadet Lewis, and a young woman he did not recognize. Next to that woman, was Joan Thursday.  
“Sir!” Cadet Lewis said. “Good afternoon, sir!”  
“This isn’t the Royal Marines, Lewis. And who might this be?” He smiled at the second woman.  
“Miss Valerie, sir.”  
“Afternoon, miss.” Endeavour smiled. “What brings you to our facility?”  
“I lost a dog.”  
“Did you fill out the form?”  
“Yes.”  
“I hope he is returned to you soon.”  
“Thank you.” She turned to face Robert. “Goodbye, now.” She walked out.  
“Well, now?” Endeavour grinned. “What’s all this, then?”  
“My girlfriend.” He smiled. “This young lady says she wanted to speak to you?”  
“Afternoon, Detective Sergeant,” Joan said.  
“Yes. Well?” He nodded down the hall. Joan followed.  
They walked a while. Then Joan pulled him into an alcove. She kissed him.  
He laughed. “Don’t do that!”  
“Really?” She grinned, and leaned in toward him again.  
Just before their lips touched, Morse heard Mr. Thursday and someone else walking down the hall. He and Joan jumped apart from one another.  
The DCI noticed them. “Hello, sweetheart,” he said to his daughter. “And you.” He nodded to Morse. “What’ve you been up to?”  
“Oh, not much,” Joan said. Morse turned bright red.  
“Now then, PC Bergen, take these back to the file room, if you would.” Fred handed the man some folders. Bergen left. “Let’s say we all get some dinner.”  
“Isn’t your wife at home?”  
“That’s what I meant, lad. Come with us.”  
“Thank you, sir, yes I will.”  
Once in the car, Thursday turned up the radio. “Did you file for your overtime hours?” he asked Morse.  
“Yes, sir, all squared away.”  
“Did you clean up?”  
“A decent pile.”  
“Good. What did you do today, Joanie?”  
“Answered phones, typed a lot of reports, helped some people. The usual.”  
“Oh, that.” Morse rolled his eyes.  
“Not a bad tune.” The DCI tapped his hand on the dashboard. “Your mother is making turkey and vegetables.”  
“Good,” Joan said.  
Eventually, they reached the Thursday residence. Fred parked, and everyone went in.  
“Hi, dear,” Winifred said at the door. She stepped back, and gave Fred a hug and a kiss. “Young man!” she said to Morse, with a smile.  
Fred put up his coat. He turned to his daughter and said, “Follow me for a second.” He waved his fingers at her.  
“Certainly.” She walked with him into a side room.  
When they were safely there, Fred turned to her. “My dear, Mr. Morse has – made me aware of some things.”  
“Oh?” She toed the carpet.  
“I know what – he asked you. That day.”  
She smiled very quickly, and swept her toe back the other way. “Did he,” she said.  
“He told me how you responded, but – he’s not angry with you anymore, and If you and he want to go on and do something together, you have my blessing.”  
“Thank you.”  
“Whatever you decide.”  
She nodded.  
“I also know what that beast Ray did to you. I will place a call to the officers in Leamington.”  
“Thank you, Dad.” She stepped forward and hugged him.  
“I don’t want to take too much time. Let’s go eat.”  
“All right.”  
Minutes later, Winifred was setting down the plates at the table. She said grace. Everyone dug in.  
“Sam told me,” Win said, “he got a bit of a pay raise.”  
“Good going,” Fred answered.  
“Yes,” Morse said. Joan chimed in as well.  
“Wish he could be here. But, a mother’s got to wait sometimes.”  
“Indeed.” Fred dabbed his mouth with a serviette. “Morse, did you see the paper on the new pistols we may have to get next year?”  
“Yes, sir. The old one caused me a lot of trouble.” He flicked his eyebrows. Fred knew that he meant the one with which Morse had shot Ronnie Box.  
“Yes, I agree. Got to pick up a new holster.”  
Morse sipped his beer. “Is this a new brand, sir?” he asked Fred.  
“Same one as always,” Winifred said.  
“Oh, I must be-” All of a sudden, Endeavour’s face turned purple. “Be-”  
All three others half-rose out of their chairs. “Oh, good Lord!” Winifred shouted, and ran to put a hand on his arm.  
“I know what it is.” Joan bolted for a chair and there found Morse’s bag of insulin. She rushed back and took out one of the works. “Hold still.”  
She administered the jab. He winced, then leaned back in his chair, and took deep breaths. “Oh, thank you,” he said.  
“That was a nightmare! Do you need to go to the hospital?” Fred asked.  
“No, sir, I don’t. Thank you.”  
“Okay, lad. You tell me, the next time one of these happens. Don’t get too proud. If you’re out there, go to the hospital first, and have them call me.”  
“Yes, sir.” Morse blushed a little. Joan caught it.  
“I mean it,” Fred said, slowly.  
“Yes.”  
“Doesn’t beer have a lot of sugar in it – you know, the alcohol?” Joan said, raising an eyebrow.  
“Yes,” Winifred said. “That’s true.”  
“Now you tell me,” Morse said with a snort. “I’m not one of those Prohibition types, as an American would say.”  
“Used to be,” Joan said.  
“Hey,” Morse snapped, and turned to glare at her – before he remembered where he was. Winifred tilted her head. Morse blurted an attempt at a correction. “I, I didn’t mean-”  
“Shh,” Mrs. Thursday said. She finished her plate, and picked up everyone else’s. She took them to the sink.  
Winifred began to wash the dishes. Fred rose from his chair.  
“I think I’ll head to the washroom.” The DCI tugged at the sides of his belt. He hummed a jazz melody, and walked off.  
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Joan asked.  
“Yes, I’m sure.” Endeavour nodded. “Ah, did-” He ran a finger around the inside of his collar. “Did you happen to take one of those tests, you know, that they used to do with rabbits?”  
Her eyes went wide. It was no use lying to him. “Yes, I did. Negative.”  
“You’re sure?”  
“I’ll buy another one, if you insist.”  
“No.” He breathed out heavily. “I believe you.”  
“Good.” Joan folded her hands in her lap. “No one wants a burden like that when they’re not ready.”  
He winced. “I’ve heard.”  
“I just want you to know something.”  
“Yes?”  
“I love you. I have since the moment I saw you.”  
He stared.  
“I wish – I wish I could have had the baby before. Just think. If I had, it would be two years old by now. Picture me running around after it. Probably living some place in the woods, because everyone would look down on me.” She smiled wistfully.  
“You don’t have to, ah, worry about that anymore.” He gasped, trying to look anywhere but at her. If he looked at her, he would break down.  
“I wonder what I would have named it.”  
“Don’t think about that.” There was an edge of caution in his voice.  
“Lisa, or Meredith, or-” Tears trickled from her eyes. She placed her fingers over the ducts.  
Suddenly, Joan stood up. “I didn’t slip, when I had my fall and went to the hospital.”  
“I, I-” he babbled.  
“You probably figured that already, didn’t you? He pushed me. Ray Morton pushed me.”  
Joan’s shoulders began to shake. Endeavour took a deep breath.  
“I have to tell your father. He can write a new warrant.”  
“Yes. You can do that.”  
“All right.” Morse breathed in deeply again. “Did you go to see him after you left my flat?”  
“Not quite. I had some suspicions, because I was late. You know, late. I went to the chemist’s, and I got one of the tests. I took it. It was positive. Then I went to tell him.” She gulped. “He did not approve.” She covered her lips with her hand.  
“Do you want me to tell your father tonight?”  
“No,” she said. “Tomorrow morning. Please.”  
He nodded.  
“He said he’d call the officers up in Leamington,” Joan said.  
“He will. I doubt either he or I will be sent to make the arrest.”  
“Thank you.” She swung her arms. “Well.” She stepped forward and kissed Morse.  
She had her eyes closed. He did not.  
She stepped back. “Do you want to-” She gestured toward the stairs.  
“I wouldn’t want your parents to hear.” They both smiled briefly. “I’ll see you.”  
“Bye now.”  
He kissed her, and walked out.

…

The next morning, Morse stood in DCI Thursday’s office, and told him the rest of the facts. Thursday’s face turned bright purple.  
“Good God,” Fred said. “Do you mean to tell me my daughter’s been dealing with this the whole time? Why didn’t she think I would support her?”  
“Fear, sir.”  
“That I would be too old-fashioned and throw her out on the street? I would never do that!”  
“People just don’t talk about certain things, sir. She must have blamed herself for the fact that he struck her. I offered to marry her before she or I knew she was pregnant. But dealing with Ray Morton a second time must have finished her off.”  
Cadet Lewis knocked on the door and walked in. “Morning, sir.”  
“Good day, Lewis.”  
“Sir, there’s a fire in a shop on Oakland Street. The fire chief wants us to send two officers, at least.”  
“Very good. Send Chaney and Olson.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“After you do that, Lewis, come right back here. I want you to help DS Morse with something.”  
“Glad to, sir.” The cadet left to carry out his assignment.  
Fred sighed. “My first grandchild.” He shook his head. “I wish-” He shook his head. “Can’t dwell on what cannot be. Let’s look at the files on the Adelman case.”  
“The truck robbery, sir?” Morse said.  
“Yes. The first man approached the truck with a shotgun.”  
Some minutes later, Cadet Robert Lewis entered the room again. “Update, DCI Thursday. I’ve dispatched PCs Will Chaney and Derek Olson to the fire.”  
“Well done, Lewis. And do you know if the officers from Leamington have gotten started yet?”  
“They were dispatched last hour, sir. Should be making the arrest any minute.”  
“Very good. Take an early lunch.”  
“Yes, sir.” Robert dashed out again.  
“He’s going to make a good detective, that one.” Fred tapped a file on the desk.  
“He’s not even an officer yet, sir.” The corners of Morse’s mouth twitched.  
“But he’ll get there. Scared of a little competition?” Fred smiled.  
“No, sir, whatever gave you that idea?” Morse looked genuinely puzzled.  
Fred smiled. “A little challenge can teach you something. He’ll be good to balance you out.”  
“Oh, am I to be his supervisor, sir?”  
“We haven’t decided yet.” Fred winked.  
Endeavour sighed and went to the water cooler. He drew a cup and drank it.  
“Let me call my wife. I think I’d like to take her out to dinner.”  
Endeavour looked forlorn. “Doesn’t it get boring, sir? Being with the same person, all the time?”  
“No.” Fred frowned. Morse blushed and took a step back.  
Fred reached Win and spoke for a few minutes. He said goodbye and hung up.  
“It’s all set,” he said. “I’ll meet her at Tantino’s.”  
Morse smiled. “I’ll return home and, ah, make noodles again. The usual.”  
“Which reminds me.” Fred checked his desk and picked up a newspaper. “The paper has a couple coupons in which you may have an interest. One is for a food shop, and one is for buy one, get one half off tickets at the movies.”  
“Oh? That sounds good, sir.”  
Fred tore off half the sheet and handed it to Endeavour. “Have a good time.” He put on his jacket and left the office.  
Morse wandered out into the hallway. He watched the officers walk around. Then he stepped to a phone.  
He called Joan’s office. Mrs. Law picked up.  
“Hello?” she said.  
“Yes, Mrs. Law, it’s Detective Sergeant Morse-”  
“With the Thames Valley Police, yes. How may help you?”  
“I’d like to speak to Miss Thursday, if she’s available.”  
“She stepped out. May I take a message?”  
“Yes, I can take her to dinner, if she wants.”  
“Very interesting! And where might that be?”  
He looked at the coupon. “It’s Mancino’s Pizza. There’s also a movie afterwards.”  
“Okay. I’ll tell her. Anything else?”  
“No, that’s all. Thank you.”  
“Yes. Have a good day, now.”  
“You as well.”  
He hung up, and headed for the washroom.  
When he came out, he walked back to his desk. There was a note on it. “’Call for you: J. Thursday. Yes, I’ll be ready. See you.’” He put it down, and went to punch out at the time card machine.  
Morse got in his car. He cranked the engine and put on the radio. On an impulse, he flicked the dial over to a pop station, and found himself humming along with the melody of “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow” by the Shirelles. Not a bad beat.  
He pulled up in front of the government building. Joan was sitting on a bench out front.  
“Hi,” she said, as he walked over. “Just on time.”  
“How was your day?”  
“I had one boy plead no contest to a public disorder offense. He’ll be apprenticed to a metal working firm. It’ll be good for him.”  
“Well done.”  
“Thank you. It’s very tiring, but I get the feeling it helps.”  
They walked to the car and got in. He started the ignition again.  
The radio came on. “Didn’t know you’d started to like pop,” she said.  
“Every once in a while, it’s good to, ah, try something new.”  
“This, from you?” She grinned. “I never know who I’m getting in the car with.”  
They drove for a while. He reached the street of the restaurant, and parked the car.  
“Looks a little casual,” he said, and opened the door for her. A sign said, “Sit where you want.” They took a table by the window.  
A waitress came over and handed them menus. “What’ll it be to drink?” she said.  
“Do you have Bass Ale?” Morse asked.  
“Yes,” the waitress said.  
“One, please.”  
“Yes. And you?”  
“Diet cola, please.” Joan put down her menu.  
“I’ll be back with your drinks in a moment.” The server walked off.  
Endeavour toyed with his serviette. “So, this lad at work, how old is he?”  
“Twelve. Got caught in a fight in the park. He was charged with disorder, and went with no contest. The judge let him choose the training program.”  
“I hope he will stay with his job, if they find him one.”  
“I do as well.”  
The woman arrived with their drinks. She set them down. “Now, what’ll it be?”  
“I’ll have the small pizza,” Morse said.  
“Any toppings?’  
“Beef.”  
“Very good. And you?”  
“I’ll have a small as well, with extra cheese,” Joan said.  
“Thank you. They’ll be out soon.” The waitress tapped Thursday’s menu together with Morse’s, and left to place the orders.  
Morse drank. Joan swirled her straw around in the glass.  
Morse could not help overhearing the conversation of two diners at another table. “Did you hear?” one said. “It’s supposed to snow tonight. Wrong time of year for it.”  
“You don’t say. I’ll have to get out the shovels again.”  
Endeavour raised an eyebrow. Joan noticed.  
“What?” she said.  
“Going to snow.” He was three-quarters done with his beer already. He swirled the glass.  
“Oh. Guess they’ll be running the trucks.”  
“To clear the roads, yes.” He emptied the glass and slammed it down on the table.  
Ten minutes passed. Morse signaled a waiter. “I want three beers.”  
“So many?” Joan said, but Endeavour ignored her.  
“Three, sir? What kind?” the worker said.  
“Bass.”  
“Thank you.” The man walked away to get the drinks.  
“I’m surprised they let you order that many at once.”  
“Hmm. Makes no difference.” He took the paper from her straw and whirled it around his fingers.  
“No difference? I hope you’ll let me drive you home. I can always take a bus.”  
“We’ve got a movie, after this.”  
“Oh. Well, thank you.” Joan took two pound notes and held them out to him. He shook his head. She shrugged and put them back.  
The ales arrived. The food still had not. “Say, can you put a move notice on that order? One pizza with beef, one extra cheese?”  
The man nodded. “I’ll do it, sir. Coming up.” He walked off again.  
Endeavour took a generous sip. He shook his head from side to side. “I’ll be taking a hot shower tonight.”  
“Oh.” Joan did not quite know where to go with that.  
At last, the pizzas were set down, with plates. Joan asked for another soda pop. The waitress, who had come back, agreed.  
Morse cut his piece and looked at it. “I’ve never ordered a whole one before.”  
“Well, you just…eat. Like anything.”  
He picked up his utensils and cut into the slice. He chewed slowly.  
“What do you think?” Joan asked.  
“It’s good. Thick.”  
“Yes.” Joan cut a slice out of the whole, and folded it. Endeavour raised an eyebrow when he noticed. Thursday began to eat.  
They did not talk much. Endeavour ordered another three beers.  
“So, what movie is tonight?” Joan asked, later on.  
“Ah, I think it’s – let me see.” He took the theater coupon out of his pocket. “’Drexler’s Watch.’”  
“What’s it about?”  
“Don’t know.”  
“Do you think you should drive? You’ve had a few.”  
“I always do.”  
“I’ll call a taxi, for myself.”  
“You will not.”  
“I don’t want you to hit a curb, or something!” she said, with real concern in her voice.  
“Nonsense, I’ll be all right.”  
She sighed. “Thank you for dinner. It was very good.”  
“Welcome.”  
He got up and stretched. Then he signaled the waitress, and settled the bill.  
Outside, he leaned against the car door, before he tried to open it. “Wrong way,” he said.  
Joan, again worried, got in the passenger side. “Look. I’ll drive very slowly.”  
“No. You’re not getting my keys.”  
“Please. Be careful.”  
He snorted, then turned the ignition.  
They managed to get to the theater without crashing. Joan breathed a sigh of relief as Endeavour pulled into the parking lot.  
He paid for the tickets. Joan bought the popcorn and soda.  
They sat down. The film began.  
It turned out to be a drama set in World War I. There was a scene in which a rifleman on shore tried to bring down a low-flying plane.  
“It’s going to crash, he hit it,” Joan gasped. She clutched Morse’s arm. He continued to eat popcorn.  
The shooter had hit the plane’s gas tank. The plane didn’t explode; it leaked fuel, causing the pilot to make an emergency landing. A bunch of soldiers swarmed around the man and held him at gunpoint.  
The movie came to an end. The two got up and strolled to the lobby. Endeavour stopped in the restroom.  
Joan took a coin and put it in the skee-ball machine. She rolled a ball down the lane. It popped into the hundred-point lane, the highest possible score for a single shot. Joan smiled. She rolled again.  
Every other ball landed in the exact same place.  
The game ended. A long reel of tickets spewed out of the machine. With a huge grin, Joan collected them, and turned them in at the desk.  
“What’ll you have?” the clerk said. “You’re allowed anything on the top shelf.”  
“I’ll have – that,” Joan said, selecting a stuffed black panther. The clerk handed it to her.  
“Enjoy,” he said. She nodded and walked away.  
Endeavour came out and met her. “What’s that?” he said.  
“I won it.”  
“Oh? Can I keep it? After all, I took you out.”  
“You had coupons.”  
They walked to the car. She put the stuffed animal in the back seat.  
“Give me the keys,” she said, and held out her hand. “You might still be drunk.”  
“I wasn’t even drunk at dinner.” He put a hand on his chest. “I can hold my ale, miss.”  
“Give.” She gestured again.  
He dropped the keys into her palm, and walked around to the passenger side.  
They got going. She put the radio back to the classical station. “Thank you,” he said, surprised.  
“Not a problem.”  
After a moment, he asked, “Where are you staying right now?”  
“You’re not trying to get over to my place, now, are you?”  
“No,” he said, with a grin. “Tell me.”  
“Oh, the shelter, other places.” She shrugged. “The park.”  
“What?” he shouted. “How can you do that? Just go back to your Mom and Dad. They can help you. They probably wouldn’t even charge you.”  
“Is this where I turn for your house?”  
“Yes. Weren’t you living with your parents when we left for Avebury?”  
“Yes.”  
“But not now?”  
She shook her head.  
“Why?”  
“I had to get out. Clear my head.”  
“They didn’t tell you to leave?”  
“No.”  
She reached his house and pulled up. She turned off the car.  
He got out and staggered around to her side.  
“I guess this is goodbye,” she said. He smiled at her and took back his keys.  
“Take your cat,” he said, and walked to the door.  
After a second, Joan removed the stuffed animal from the car, and carried it through the door. Morse flicked on the lights.  
Endeavour washed his hands in the kitchen sink. He poured two glasses from a pitcher of fruit juice, and handed one to Joan.  
“You’re becoming an alcoholic,” Joan murmured.  
Endeavour raised an eyebrow. “Say again?”  
“You drank a lot tonight. Especially for just dinner with me.”  
He flicked a smile. “I can handle it.” He sipped the juice. “See?”  
“If you don’t feel comfortable talking to me, get someone else.” Joan took a pull from her own drink.  
Endeavour dipped his head to one side. “You’re the psychiatrist.”  
“Your job is getting to you.”  
“Right, you know everything.” He swiveled his head again and muttered something she did not catch.  
“What was that?”  
“Don’t give me advice.”  
“Okay. Are you going to be sick?”  
“No.”  
“Good.”  
He thought for a second. “You don’t want to lose me.” He grinned.  
She blushed. “Oh, there are times when I could lose you quite handily.” She took a breath. “It’s not a shame to ask for help.”  
“Ah, put on a record.” He pointed his glass at the record player.  
“Ask nicely.”  
“Miss Thursday?”  
“All right.”  
Joan stood and went to the box of records Morse kept next to the stereo. She picked out an album and set it up to play.  
“Let me guess,” Endeavour said. “Wagner. ‘Flight of the Valkyries.’”  
“Oh, no. I wouldn’t touch Wagner with a stick.”  
“Because he’s a jerk?”  
“No, he’s too pompous, and takes eleven thousand notes to say what fifty would do. And he’s a jerk.”  
“I like him.”  
“I don’t think you’ve done what he did. Steal his friend’s woman. Start fights for no reason. Oh my God, you are him.”  
“No, I haven’t sunk that far yet. I don’t fight with Jewish folk.”  
“Good on you.”  
The needle finally dropped. It was a Russian men’s choir, singing Christmas carols.  
“Bit late for that. Good, nonetheless. I’d forgotten I had it.”  
“You never decorate your desk at work.”  
“How would you even know?”  
“I can just tell. I do stop by now and then, to speak to my father.”  
“True. Well, you’re right. I never put up a tree or any of that.”  
“I don’t even know when your birthday is.”  
“And it’ll stay that way.”  
“So I can’t get you a present.”  
“Get me something anyway?” he asked. “That?” He nodded toward the panther.  
“It’s mine. I competed for it, fair and square.”  
“Pfaaah.” He laughed.  
“What? What’s so funny?”  
All of a sudden, he frowned. “You still haven’t told your father about your… condition yet.”  
“How did you know?”  
“Well, I didn’t want to jump the gun without asking you. I did speak to your father about – your pregnancy.”  
“Well. I asked you to, so it’s all right.”  
“He said he would have supported you. But it’s not your fault you – lost it.”  
“Thank you.” She dipped her eyes. She began to cry.  
He beckoned to her. She sat next to him on the couch.  
He pulled her to him, and put his arms around her. “Shh, it’s all right. Shh.” He patted her back. “Don’t go back to the shelter.”  
“I won’t.”  
“You can stay here.”  
“Tonight?” She laughed uncertainly. “I’ll take the couch.”  
“No.”  
She sighed and looked away. “Do you want a family someday? I’d like to replace-” She stopped.  
“Don’t use that word.” He brushed the hair from over her eyes. “Yes, I do. I’m not just saying that.”  
“Two? Three?”  
“Whatever you can put up with.”  
She turned bright red. “Oh, you.”  
Gently pulling her hand, he got up from the couch. He looked her in the eyes. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”  
“You’re not still drunk?” She laughed.  
He shook his head. “Stay,” he said.  
She leaned forward and kissed him. “I don’t know, you still taste like-”  
He put a finger over her lips, and led her to the bedroom. 

…

Months went by. Morse was constantly placed on extra hours, despite the promises from higher-up officers. Joan moved her things into his place, and fell asleep every night, before he came home and dropped asleep as well.  
Then, one day, Winifred showed up at the door. Joan had just gotten home from work. She put down her file folder and went to answer the knock.  
“Hi, Mom!” she said, giving Win a kiss on the cheek. “What brings you here?”  
“I came to invite you to Aunt Ellen’s for dinner.”  
“You could have just called.”  
“Oh, I took the bus over here. Your father’s going to pick us all up after work.”  
“Morse, too?”  
“Yes, of course. I’ll sit down.”  
“Let me get you something to eat.”  
Joan put together a plate of cheese and pretzels, and set it on a side table, next to her Mom’s chair.  
“Sit with me,” Win said. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”  
“Yes, we do.” Joan pulled up a chair alongside her. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you about.”  
“If it’s you and Morse, honey, remember, I helped you move in.”  
“No, it’s not that,” Joan said, looking down, with a blush. “It’s – my health.”  
“Health? Really?” Win raised her eyebrows, and waited for her daughter to speak.  
“I… came down with… something.”  
“Yes, what? The flu? Did you get your shot?”  
“No, Mother, it’s not that.”  
Joan got up and went to the bedroom. She returned with a manila envelope. It said “Medical” on the front.  
Winifred opened it and scanned the pages. She blinked.  
“Oh, no, dear, is this real? They really said this?”  
Joan nodded. “I’m afraid so.”  
“Oh, God, honey.” Winifred put down the papers and hugged her daughter. “I wish you had told us sooner. You’ll have to introduce this again to your father. Well, I’ll do that for you.”  
“Yes, Mom.”  
“Are you taking any medication?”  
“Yes, they’ve started me on a couple of things. I go for blood tests now – I have to have four a year. Minimum. There’ll be extra if anything else comes up.”  
“I assume you’ve told Morse?”  
“I did.”  
“Good. Ah – are you and he planning to – adopt?”  
Joan dropped her eyes again. “We talked about it. He thinks it’s all right.”  
“Good. I have hopes for you.” Her mother hugged her again. “You’re going to live a long time, all right? Hear me?”  
“Yes, Mom, I will.” Joan smiled.  
They heard the sound of a key in the lock. It rattled. Then there was swearing.  
Joan opened the door. It was Endeavour.  
She smiled, and hugged him around the neck. She kissed him.  
He saw her mother, and smiled. “Mrs. Thursday. What brings you here?”  
“I’m inviting you to Aunt Ellen’s house for dinner. She’s my sister.”  
“Oh, yes. Should be lovely.”  
Morse was bathed in sweat. Joan ushered him over to a chair, and got him a glass of water. He drank, and panted.  
“Good God, young man, you look awful,” Win said. “You don’t have to go if you’re sick.”  
“No, it’s the way of the world, for us diabetics,” Endeavour said.  
“You’ve had your insulin?” Win asked.  
“Yes, I did. I have to ask the doctor to raise the dosage.”  
“That may help. I know a couple of Frederick’s friends who have had it, over the years.”  
“Yes. Ah.” He stretched, and finished the water. Win rushed to get him another glass.  
Joan put her arms around Endeavour’s neck. She then stood back. “I’ve been reading all about it,” she told him. “Is there anything I can help you with? I can go right to the chemist’s, from Mrs. Law’s office, if you need me to. Just call me.”  
“Thank you, I do have your work number.” Morse winced and put a hand on his neck. Joan stepped up and began to massage the sore spot. “Oh, that’s good. Thank you.”  
“I don’t want to annoy you, but-” Joan said.  
“Ha ha, you? You couldn’t.” Endeavour smiled.  
“Um, can you ask for another few days off? You can go somewhere. I’ll look up a spa for you.”  
“The kind where they put on face makeup?” Morse frowned.  
“No, the kind where you bathe in salt springs. I’ve heard the best time to go is fall and winter.”  
“Maybe if you’re from Finland.”  
“At least let me look up the prices. I may be able to chip in.”  
Endeavour patted her hand, then picked it up and kissed it.  
“We haven’t had time to...” Joan said, and continued to rub his neck.  
“No more two a.m. dismissals,” Morse said. “I spoke to your father about it. I’m going back on the afternoon shift.”  
“Are they waiting to hire more police officers?” Joan asked. “I saw in the paper, about the upcoming elections. They’ve managed to screw up the budget, right and proper.”  
“Yes, they did. Apparently, when they’re done with their decisions, they’ll tell me if I’ll be getting any help, to pick up more of my hours. But I can’t keep covering for everybody like this. Your Dad said I’m doing the work of three men.”  
“More like ten.” Joan kissed the top of his head.  
Win walked back in the room, and handed Morse his glass of water. Ice cubes floated in the top. “Here.”  
“Thank you, ma’am.” He drank it.  
There came the sound of a car horn. Win went to the door.  
“It’s Fred. Everybody get your coats.” She shut the door.  
When they were all ready, they proceeded out to the car.  
“All ready?” Fred asked. “Should be good to get to see family.”  
“Yes. Ellen told me other people may be there.” Win looked out the window.  
They cruised to Win’s sister’s home. Fred parked at the curbed. They went up to the front door.  
“Ms. Ellen?” Fred called out, and knocked on the door.  
She answered. Ellen was in her mid-sixties, and wore a blue and white dress. “Welcome, everyone! You look magnificent!” The guests walked past her. “Except you, young man. Not to detract from your general handsomeness. But you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”  
“I’m afraid I have the sugar, ma’am.” Morse ran a finger inside the collar of his shirt.  
“Oh! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t aware. Do you take insulin?”  
“Yes, yes, I brought the things I need.” Morse lifted up a small black bag.  
“Very good. Sit down. Don’t you worry.”  
The group assembled at the kitchen table. Aunt Ellen distributed drinks.  
About a half hour into proceedings, there came a knock at the door.  
Ellen answered. It was Jim Strange. He had a big smile on his face. He also had two people with him.  
“Hello, young man. Who are your friends?”  
“This is Robert Lewis, a cadet at our station, and his girlfriend, Valerie.” The other two nodded.  
“Welcome! Come in. It’s almost like Christmas.”  
The new guests piled in. They greeted the others. Ellen found chairs for them. Jim gave her a bottle of rose wine. She put it on a side table.  
“How did you know to come here?” Endeavour asked.  
“Mr. Thursday told us, at the station.”  
“Oh. Great.” Morse sighed, and rested his head on one hand.  
Soon, Ellen brought out the roast turkey. “Hopefully, it’s enough for all of you.”  
“Looks good,” Jim said. “What are the rest of you going to eat?”  
Robert and Valerie chuckled.  
Ellen put on some music. It was a jazz station, playing sprightly tunes from the 40s. She picked up her wine glass. “So, how are things down at the station?” she said to Fred.  
“Eh, average enough, I have to say,” he replied. “Officers come and go. We solve most of our cases. Some we lose. Our Morse, here, has never lost a case, so far. He’s been at the station seven years.”  
“I’m not so sure I’d say I never lost one,” Morse broke in, but Fred talked over him.  
“Mr. Lewis here is one of our new cadets,” Fred continued. “Last year, we had a couple quit. They couldn’t squeeze more people out of the academy, so Lewis has been filling in hours other people could have worked.”  
“So have I,” Endeavour said. Once again, Fred completely ignored him.  
“Lewis here has had to learn how to fight fires, he can do elementary car repair, from the time my car broke down – you name it, he’s figured out how to do it.” Fred beamed.  
“You talk like you just gave birth to him,” Joan chipped in, with a smile. Robert tilted his head and smirked.  
“I hope I’ll be a copper for a long time.” Robert scooped up a bit of turkey and chewed it.  
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Morse said, but Lewis did not hear.  
The dinner wound down. Ellen brought out cake. Everyone began to eat dessert.  
Abruptly, Winifred got up and walked into the kitchen. “Frederick, come here, please. I have to speak to you about something.” Puzzled, her husband got up, and followed her.  
Joan knew what her mother was going to say.  
Winifred whispered something to Fred. He became very startled, and said “No!” Winifred continued to talk. Fred glanced toward Joan, and back at Win. He sighed. His shoulders slumped.  
A moment later, Fred walked out. Win stayed in the kitchen, to get herself another glass of wine.  
Fred looked at his daughter. He nodded toward a side room.  
Joan came over. “Yes, Dad – I think I know what you want me to talk to you about.”  
“Your mother just told me, the doctors say, you have – leukemia? Is that right?”  
“Yes, Dad. It’s true.”  
Her father sighed. “Have they told you anything about what you need to do? Did they give you adequate medicine?”  
“Yes, Dad. I have some booklets. I’ve gotten a book out of the library as well. I’m taking what they told me to.”  
“Did you tell Morse?”  
“Yes.”  
“Ah. Well. You tell me anything you need, whether it’s a trip to the chemist’s or the hospital, do you hear?”  
“Yes, Dad.”  
“All right now.” He kissed her on the cheek. She hugged him.  
Moments later, there was another knock on the door.  
“Who could this be?” Ellen said. She opened the door.  
It was Sam Thursday. He wore a blue sweater, a white shirt, jeans, and sneakers. “Hello, Auntie.”  
“Oh, Sam! I didn’t know you were coming. Please, come in.”  
“Hi,” Joan said, and kissed the young man on the cheek.  
Sam nodded hello at everyone. His father immediately noticed the difference in what his son was wearing.  
“On leave, eh? How did you figure out we were here?”  
“I went to your house first. Asked a neighbor,” Sam said.  
“Oh. Come on, sit down.” Fred gestured to a chair. Sam took his seat.  
The dinner resumed its noise. Endeavour got bored, and looked at Joan, until she noticed him. He nodded toward the kitchen. She got up and followed him.  
“Yes?” Joan asked.  
“I don’t know when your birthday is, but, ah, I decided to get you something.”  
“Morse, you devil! Where is it?” She looked at him to see if he had hidden a bag behind his back. He had not.  
Confused, she looked up. “Come on, don’t be mean, what is it?”  
“A son. Or a daughter.”  
“If you’re talking about what I think you are, we can’t do it here, we have to look for the room with the coats in it-”  
“No, on Monday, when I get done with work, I’ll pick you up. We can go to the adoption agency. They close at six on Monday.”  
She shrieked. “Oh! I never thought you would – actually-”  
“I said it, and I meant it.”  
She grabbed his face and kissed him. “Oh my God, Morse. Now that you’re really prepared – oh! Are we going to go ahead with the-” She held up her left hand, and pointed to the ring finger.  
“I’m going to call your parents’ church on Monday as well. It may be months.”  
“Well, I’ll be there.” She kissed him again. “Just make sure you are.” And again.  
They were still kissing when Jim Strange walked in, to get some wine. He cleared his throat.  
“Excuse me, what are you doing? Excuse me?” He blinked. He called out, “Mr. Thursday, you want to see this?”  
Joan made a very rude gesture. Jim blushed.  
Strange walked out of the room, and over to Mr. Thursday. “Sir,” he said, and cleared his throat. “Your subordinate, and your daughter, they were in the kitchen!”  
“So?” Fred said, after a second.  
“They were, with their faces, they – just-” He rolled his hands all around each other.  
“They were playing a dice game? What on Earth do you mean?”  
“Not at all. Sir, they were-” This time he smashed his hands together.  
“Playing tennis? What?”  
“No!” Jim, exasperated, waved his arms up and down. He emitted a groan.  
Just then, Joan walked out of the kitchen. She went over to her father. “Hello,” she said, and kissed him. “Enjoying yourself, Mr. Strange?”  
Jim sighed, and went to talk to Sam. 

…

The party came to an end at last, with the guests walking back to their cars. Endeavour and Joan went to his Jaguar.  
“Did you buy this from my Dad?” she said, as they got in. “Tell the truth now.”  
“Yes. At a discount.” He turned the key and stepped on the pedal. An ‘oomph’ noise came out. “Hang on, that wasn’t supposed to-” He cranked the key a couple more times, and the engine at last started.  
They moved into traffic. The radio station went to a news update.  
“Oh, I forgot, I got you something,” Joan said.  
“What is it?” Morse said, with a smile.  
“It’s, ah-” Joan rummaged in her purse. She placed it on the armrest. “An air freshener.”  
“Oh.” Morse looked lost. “Ah, thank you.”  
When they stopped at a red light, he opened the packet, and put the freshener on the rearview mirror. He tapped it and watched it spin. “Not sure that’s according to the rules.”  
“If they bother you about it, tell them it was me.”  
They reached his house. Morse pulled over and shut off the car. Joan unlocked her door and rushed to the curb. It was just at the moment that Endeavour remembered to dash around and help her.  
“Ouch!” she said, as he slammed into her. They both stumbled in opposite directions.  
“I’m sorry!” he yelped. He dusted off his coat.  
Endeavour turned toward the door, and took out his keys. He went inside.  
By the time he closed the door, he was startled that Joan wasn’t there.  
He peeked back out. She was pacing back and forth, next to the rubbish bin.  
Endeavour lifted his hand and gestured to her to come in. She dipped her head, and walked inside.  
Joan hung up her coat. She looked around in the living room. “Well, that’s – I could dust a minute.” She ran into the bathroom, and came back with the polish and a brush.  
Endeavour put on the television and sat on the couch. “Mind the cricket,” he said, as Joan dashed back and forth. In a few minutes, she was done, and put back the implements.  
“Okay, then,” she said, and turned to look at him. She kissed him on the head.  
He clutched her arm, pulled her in for a kiss on the lips. She broke it off, and smiled.  
“Oh! I’ll be – reading, if you want me.” She nodded toward the bedroom.  
“Big day coming up?”  
“Yes, I’ve got to testify about two kids in court, and I have to review my notes.”  
“Who are they?”  
“Albert Gates, and Eric Phipps.”  
“Hmm. I don’t know them.” He scratched the side of his neck.  
“They were both caught breaking into cars. I guess I have to get them ready to enter pleas, so they can get better sentences.”  
“Or, Mr. Strange will be happy to throw them off a bridge for you.”  
“Oh!” she said, with a startled laugh. “Don’t say things like that.”  
“I don’t know if they will learn anything from a short sentence. Or, for that matter, a long one.” He rubbed his elbows. “Sometimes I can’t tell if I’m having any effect at all.”  
“You are,” she said, and kissed him. “You are.”  
She pulled away from him and started toward the bedroom. He spun her back around.  
“Where do you think you’re going?” he said, and kissed her.  
He pulled off her shirt, and tossed it to the floor.

Some time later, he lay back in bed, and panted heavily. She turned slightly away, and pulled the covers up around herself.  
He mumbled something. She turned to face him.  
“What?” Joan said.  
“I said, good for you?”  
She blushed. “Well, yes, of course.” She wiggled under the sheets.  
“That means it wasn’t.”  
She blushed again, almost purple. “Well-”  
“I can tell.”  
Joan was embarrassed. “Ah, let’s talk about this later, okay?” She snuggled toward him.  
“No.” He rolled over on her again, and kissed her. “Now.”  
He pushed more forcefully this time. She held her breath. She gripped the sheets.  
“Oh-” He grunted. “Ahhh-”  
He jolted two times, and lay back. His face was flushed.  
After he got his breath back, he said, “Still not good enough. You’re not helping me.”  
“What?” She looked at him.  
“Just – just – ahh.” He tossed a pillow at her.  
“Hey.” She caught it, and placed it under his arm. He wiggled back and forth.  
“Stop. Just-” He closed his eyes, and his breathing slowed. In moments, he was asleep.  
Joan’s eyes welled up. She wanted to wake him up and yell at him, but lost all her nerve.  
She rolled over, and stared at the opposite wall for a long time. 

…

Hours later, Endeavour, snoring loudly, rolled over and woke up. He reached out his hand and brushed it over the space where Joan should have been.  
She was missing.  
He sat up and looked around. Not a hair to be seen.  
Endeavour held the sheets around himself, and walked off to the shower. As he turned on the water, he wondered why he couldn’t just drop the sheets. His mother’s Quaker modesty, which she had drilled into him, he guessed.  
He got dressed and left for the station.  
Joan, meanwhile, got off the bus at the doctor’s.  
She signed in at the desk, and read a magazine, until her name was called.  
A half hour later, she looked at the doctor and trembled. “I’m not ready,” she said.  
“I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s true.” He showed her the papers.  
She looked them over and nodded. “Um, do I need to take medication?”  
“Not unless you feel sick. Unusually so. First, try a little seltzer and ice, drink it, and lie down. If it’s still bad, take some antacid. Regular strength, but three or four, instead of two.”  
“Thank you. I will.”  
“Congratulations.” He gave her a warm smile.  
“Thank you, Doctor. Goodbye.”  
“Bye now.”  
Joan picked up her things and left. She got back on the bus, and headed straight to Mrs. Law’s office.  
Thursday worked with her head down until it was closing time. Then she got ready to leave.  
Mrs. Law drew her aside. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you all day. What’s got you down?”  
“I should think I’m chipper,” Joan said, with a grin.  
“I know you’re pretending. Is something wrong at home?”’  
“I don’t know what you mean.”  
“Oh, that’s who. I should have known.”  
“Who?”  
Mrs. Law rolled her eyes. “If he’s not being a good boy, you let me know.” She tapped Joan on the shoulder and smiled.  
“But I don’t have a dog.”  
Vivian laughed out loud. Joan walked out of the office.  
As Thursday approached the bus stop, she remembered where Morse said they should be. She got off at a different stop, and transferred to another line.  
At last, she reached the J. Peachman Center for Families. Joan strolled up to the desk.  
“Hello!” she said to the clerk.  
“Afternoon,” said the woman on the chair. “How are you?” She was black and in her late twenties.  
“I’m good.” Joan put her hands on the counter. “I am interested in – expanding my family, as you might say.”  
“Good to know. We have a number of children you might want to meet.”  
“Yes. Ah, did anyone call on my behalf? My name’s Joan Thursday.” She took out her driver’s license and showed it to the woman. She read the lady’s name tag: it said Beryl Hanson.  
“Oh, let me see.” Beryl flipped through a book. “Are you looking to adopt an infant, or someone a few years older than that?”  
“Well, let me speak to-” Joan put a finger on her chin. “Someone about five to ten years old, please.”  
“Okay.” Hanson smiled.

…

Endeavour stood at the water cooler and drank his third cup in a row. The DCI strolled up.  
“What is it, lad, did you have to run and catch someone today?”  
“Oh, no, I did get one suspect, but he was standing still.”  
“Oh. Did you finish your report?”  
“Yes, just now. It’s on your desk.”  
“Thank you.” Fred stepped in his face. “How is my daughter?”  
“I haven’t heard from her today, sir.” Morse scratched the back of his neck.  
“But you were going somewhere with her today, after work.”  
“H-how did you know that, sir?” Morse smiled nervously.  
“I did.” He did not smile.  
Endeavour gulped. “You’re right, sir. I was. I should be going.”  
“Morse?”  
“Yes, sir?”  
The DCI stepped even closer. Endeavour could see his nose move when he breathed. “Be careful about my daughter. Very careful.”  
“I will, sir.”  
Fred’s expression was completely flat. “Go.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
Endeavour rushed to the time card machine and punched out. He jogged to the car.  
He pulled up in the car park at the Peachman Center. Out of habit, he pulled the knot of his tie back and forth.  
Endeavour walked into the front hall. He heard Miss Thursday and another woman talking to a young boy.  
“So, tell the lady all about yourself, Simon,” Beryl said. She smiled, and walked away.  
“Hi, ma’am.” The boy had brown hair. He was biracial. His eyes couldn’t focus on Miss Thursday.  
“Hello. My name’s Joan Thursday. Pleased to meet you.”  
“You as well.” He shifted from one foot to another.  
“What’s your last name again, please?”  
“Garnet.”  
“So, what’s your favorite class? What do you like to do?”  
“Ah, I like to draw, I like math.”  
“Good.”  
Morse turned the corner and looked at the two of them. Beryl strolled up to him and sat down at the front desk. He faced her.  
“Good evening,” he said, and held out his police ID.  
“Evening, Detective Sergeant.”  
“I was to accompany the lady?”  
“Yes, sir. Go right ahead.”  
“Thank you.” Endeavour rushed ahead and caught up to Joan.  
Simon was still talking. “I like chalk. I draw on the sidewalk sometimes.”  
“Oh, what things?” Miss Thursday asked the child.  
“Flowers, turtles, stuff like that.”  
“Do you want to take a painting class someday?”  
“Yes, ma’am. I want to.” He grinned, very briefly. “Hello, mister.”  
Joan turned around.  
“Ah-” Morse said. He nodded at the boy.  
“What do you do, miss?” the child said.  
“I’m in social work.”  
“Oh. And what are you, mister?”  
“I’m a policeman.” Endeavour showed the child his ID.  
The boy pulled at his collar. “Oh. That’s, ah-” He muttered something Morse could not quite catch.  
Joan cleared her throat. “Let’s talk about sport. What games do you like?”  
“Rugby.”  
“Do you ever watch the national team sometimes?”  
Joan’s smile was so winning, the young boy spoke up. “Yes, I like to.”  
“If there’s a game in London sometime, maybe we can go.”  
“Yes.” Simon grinned.  
Then he noticed something. “You’re not wearing a ring, lady. Are you married?”  
“Ah, no, I’m not.” Joan frowned slightly.  
“The minister at my church is going to tell you that you have to get married.” Simon wobbled from foot to foot.  
“Oh. I figured.” Joan gave an awkward grin.  
“Do you arrest people, mister?” Simon began to sweat.  
“Sometimes,” Morse answered.  
The boy began to twist back and forth, and mutter under his breath.  
“It’ll be all right,” Joan said. “Shh.”  
Simon nodded.  
They talked for a while. Then Simon started to get antsy. “Are you going to leave yet?”  
“I have to fill out some paperwork,” Joan reassured him. She walked to the desk. Morse stayed with the child.  
“Excuse me, could you tell me if unmarried people are allowed to adopt?”  
“I don’t think so.”  
“Oh. Are there ever any exceptions?”  
Beryl tapped her pen on her desk. “I could look at the ordinances, if you want.”  
“Fine. I’ll sit down.”  
Joan crossed to a chair and sat down. Hanson began flipping through the book.  
The phone rang. Beryl answered.  
“Oh, yes. I was just talking to a new client.” She listened for a moment. “No. She isn’t. Should I look it up? I’ve read some information, while she was talking to the child. She’s a social worker.”  
Joan smiled, as she overheard the discussion. She figured Beryl was talking to a supervisor, and would be a few minutes.  
Down the hall, Endeavour tried to strike up a conversation with the young lad. “So, how old are you?”  
“Um, I was born in 1962.”  
“So, eight.”  
“Yes. This year. You look like a pirate.”  
Endeavour laughed. “Really?”  
“Yeah.”  
“I don’t have a cloth wrapped around my head. What do they call those things?”  
“Bandanas. No, you don’t.”  
“I don’t have a sword.”  
“But you have a gun.”  
“Not with me now.”  
“Oh.”  
Back by the desk, Joan tapped her foot. She was beginning to get impatient. She just wanted to know if she should bother to fill out the rest of the paperwork. Thursday had started to like the child immediately, and wanted to tell him he would have a home to go to.  
If. Only if.  
Tap, tap, tap.  
“You think so? I don’t see it. I looked everywhere. Uh-huh. The whole book. It’s not in the index.” Beryl paused. “It may have been a custom, but things are changing these days.” She waited again. “Uh-huh. So what you’re telling me is, you don’t know?”  
Thursday managed a weak smile.  
“Well, I’m telling her. Thank you. Goodbye.”  
Hanson breathed out. “As far as I know, there exists no statutory prohibition against unmarried people adopting children. We didn’t used to, but as I said, things are changing.”  
“So, I can do it?” Joan beamed.  
“Yes. If you want to adopt Simon. The choice is up to you.”  
“How much do I owe you?” Joan rummaged in her pocketbook for a check.  
“Nothing. We just want to make sure your background is safe.”  
“That, I can prove.” She took out her license again. “I assume there are some papers?”  
“Yes.” Beryl handed her a clipboard with a thick pile of forms to be filled out. “Once you complete these, we’ll have to check everything. It should be processed in about a week.”  
“Thank you. Better call my parents. They’re going to be grandparents.”  
“Congratulations. This your first?”  
“Yes.”  
“Best of luck.”  
“Thank you.”  
Joan sat down again, and began to write.

…

Twenty minutes later, Endeavour stood outside the men’s room, waiting for Simon to come out. The child soon did so.  
“I’m washed, mister.”  
“Good.”  
“Where do you live, anyway?”  
“Oh, out in the middle of nowhere.”  
“Are you going to marry that lady?”  
“Oh! I should say!” Startled, Endeavour began to pull at the collar of his shirt. “I'll be asking her soon.”  
“Well, do it.”  
“Whatever you say!” Endeavour laughed.  
“She’s coming, mister.”  
Joan walked toward them. “Well,” she said. “I filled out the application. They said they’ll call me in about a week.”  
“Today is Friday. So, next Friday.” Morse grinned briefly.  
“I gotta go back?” Simon asked.  
“Well, just for a week. Where do they have you staying?” Joan said.  
“In a home. With a foster couple. They’re grandparents already.”  
“Well, as soon as they let me know, I’ll call you, okay?”  
“Thanks, lady.”  
“Can I give you a hug?”  
“Yes.” The boy stepped forward and hugged Joan. She patted him on the back. Simon shook hands with Morse. “See you.”  
Simon waved to her and Endeavour, then walked to the front desk, where he began to talk to Beryl.  
Joan walked out the front door. Morse followed.  
“I’ll walk to the bus.” She flicked her hair.  
“You’ll come with me.”  
“That’s not my home.”  
“Oh? And where is?”  
“Don’t know. I could go back to my parents,’ I guess.”  
He stepped closer. “I was a bit of a prat last night. Come home.”  
She thought for a moment, then tossed her head from side to side. “All right,” she murmured.  
They got underway. She stretched and yawned, and then was not aware of anything else, until he touched her arm and told her, “We’re here.”  
Inside, she hung up her coat, and put her copy of the adoption paperwork on the dresser in his room. It would be a nerve-wracking week, waiting for the news.  
Joan heard the sound of water from the washroom. She sat down on the bed and stretched her arms.  
Then she got up and went to her section of the dresser. She got out a nightgown and changed into it. She stretched again, and got under the covers.  
Minutes later, Joan heard Endeavour walk in. He slid under the sheet and blanket, and pressed up beside her.  
He was, as usual, down to his tank top and boxers. She noticed something else: he had shaved. The smooth flesh of his face was cool against hers.  
“It’s going to be… different, soon,” Joan said. “If I get approved, I could have the child as soon as next week. I think it may take up to a month.”  
“At least.”  
“The poor chap.”  
“He’ll make it through.”  
She felt the warmth of his body against her back. She turned to face him.  
“Want to give it a try anyway?” Joan said.  
“Do I,” Endeavour said.  
They kissed.

To Be Continued


End file.
